AT OSCAR WILDE’S GRAVE
Who stole the angel’s glory?
Still, you’ve got the rarest grave in Pére Lachaise, Granite teeming with lipstick kisses,
A shoal of petals in a mountain lake,
A cloud burst of tropical fish,
And taped to a withering rose there’s a note:
Thank you for teaching me that I was good.
I kiss the teacher too
For you are more than welcome
To the imprint of my gaping mouth
If I can stay awhile in reverence
To watch my wet gift fading,
November sun licking my lips.
Note: I visited Oscar Wilde’s grave in Paris. A hero to many LGBTQ+, the gravestone covered in lipstick kisses & many have also left little notes of thanks – & someone at some cracked off & ran away with the granite cock of the Angel statue which adorns the grave.